Stand by Me
by dawneh
Summary: Craig was too late... always too late. In memory of Kevin... miss ya little penguin
1. Chapter 1

No I won't be afraid, no I won't be afraid  
Just as long as you stand, stand by me

It's been three months since that day. Three months and four days to be exact, not that I'm counting you understand. It's strange because it feels as if those three months have gone by in the blink of an eye, and at the same time it feels as if time stood still, like nothing in the world has happened since I got that call.

Even as I crashed through the door that day, breathless and panicked, I knew I was already too late. I saw it on their faces; nobody had to speak a word. In fact I'm not sure that anybody did speak, not for the longest time.

Myra looked at me with eyes that tore into my soul. I'd never seen so much pain, so much grief on one persons face before, I had to look away but the sight of the other people in the room didn't help. Michaela sat with her arms wrapped around her body, rocking back and forward in her seat staring blankly at the floor. Carmel had her arm around her youngest sister, mascara coloured tears streaked her face but she made no effort to clear them away. Mercedes stood silently in the corner, her face a picture of outrage as if she was looking for someone to blame, but there was nobody that she could. And Jacqui. Poor, brave, strong Jacqui. Leaning back against the wall with her arms folded across her chest, a barrier to anyone who might try and get too close. Holding in her pain for fear that, should she let it loose, it might consume her.

I know I fell to the floor at this point. I must have hit the ground hard, as for days later my knees showed the evidence of deep purple bruising, but I felt nothing. I didn't cry or speak or even move. Everything inside me seemed to be gone and I was empty. I could fell the cold hollow in my chest as I slumped to the ground and gave in.

I suppose someone must have eventually pulled me up. Was it one of his sisters, his mother or a nurse? I have no idea. The world stopped mattering that day, stopped spinning and I stopped existing.

---

I won't cry, I won't cry, no I won't shed a tear  
Just as long as you stand, stand by me

A few days later I looked at myself in the mirror as I straightened my tie. I didn't recognise the person I saw. I seemed so different now, so vacant, so much less than the person I had once been. I felt the weight of a hand on my shoulder and turned to see the sympathetic smile of my older brother.

I suppose I should have been grateful for his support but instead he just made me angry. I lashed out at him as I turned, my fist connecting with his jaw but he made no attempt to stop me.

"This is all your fault," I screamed irrationally at him, raining blows down on his chest until he was forced to grab my wrists to stop me. "All your fault," I repeated, "If you hadn't come to the airport… if you hadn't made me say those things… he would have come to Dublin with me… he'd be safe now…"

It was then that the tears finally came. I didn't really blame Jake, if anything I blamed myself. If I had been stronger that day or if I had been more confident in my love. So may ifs but not one of them would change a thing now.

Jake pulled me against his chest and held me there while I sobbed. He didn't say anything, he knew there were no words that could soothe me; he just held me close while I finally gave in to the pain that tore through my chest.

I suppose some people could see a kind of perverted poetic justice in the situation. Just as my brother had once taken away somebody that the Valentine family loved now the love of my life had been snatched from me. That beautiful, gentle boy had been mown down in the street and left there alone. It was already too late when they got him to the hospital. Much too late by the time I arrived. I was always too late. Too late to say goodbye and too late to fight for the love I so desperately needed.

---

Whenever you're in trouble won't you stand by me, oh now now stand by me  
Oh stand by me, stand by me, stand by me

Myra wanted a traditional goodbye for her son but as we stood by the dark open hole in the ground I felt afraid. It terrified me to think of the boy, the man, the person that I loved left alone in the cold damp ground and I wanted to scream at them not to leave him there.

I think Myra understood my anguish and the support of her arm around me gave me greater comfort than anything anyone else could ever offer. I had always thought that Myra saw me as the man who hurt her son but as she looked at me with gentle sad eyes, eyes that so reflected the soft blue ones I had adored so much, I knew that she also saw me as the man who loved her son.

"It's not our John Paul in there anymore," Myra whispered softly to me, "But as long as you keep him in your heart he'll still be with us somewhere…"

I put my arm around Myra's waist and hugged her to me. I think it was the first time I had ever hugged her and I expect it will be the last. But for that moment we understood each other. We knew how much the loss of him hurt and we held on tightly to the memories of the boy we loved.

---

When the night has come  
And the land is dark  
And the moon is the only light we'll see  
No I won't be afraid, no I won't be afraid  
Just as long as you stand, stand by me

It's been three months since that day. Three months and four days to be exact, not that I'm counting you understand. Every day I think of him and every day I miss him. I keep his picture by my bed. Sometimes it can be a torture, but mostly it's a comfort.

For a few months in my life the most beautiful man in the world loved me. For a few months I knew how it felt to be content. For a few months I knew happiness.

I sometimes wonder if I will ever find that again. If I do I'll know how to cherish it this time, I'll know not to let it slip through my fingers and not to run and hide just because I get scared. But whatever happens to me in the future I know that there will always be a part of my heart that will only ever belong to John Paul McQueen.


	2. Chapter 2

"Granddad tell me a story."

"OK Mollie… get me one of your books then."

"No not a book story… you tell me a story."

My young granddaughter climbs onto my lap, her head resting gently against my shoulder as I wrap my arms around her. At eight years old I have heard her comment to her parents that she might be getting too big for cuddles now but I'm glad to see that doesn't extend to her old granddad.

"What kind of story d'you want to hear?"

"I don't know… tell me about you… tell me about when you were a boy."

I smile fondly as I stroke her soft blonde curls. She reminds me so much of her mother at that age. A cascade of golden hair that tumbles to her shoulders, and the brightest blue eyes that I had ever seen, well almost.

"Well when I was a boy," I begin, smiling softly as I recall my youth, "I used to live in a place called Hollyoaks."

"Was it a nice place?"

"It was a very nice place. And I lived there with my mummy and my brother and my two sisters."

"Did you not have a daddy?" Mollie asks me in a sad voice.

"I did… but he went away."

"Like Chloe's daddy went away?" Mollie says referring to a young friend whose parents had recently divorced.

"Just like Chloe's daddy."

"Were you sad? Chloe was sad."

"I was sad for a little while," I said gently, "But then my mummy met a nice man called Jack and we went to live with him and we didn't have to be sad any more."

"That's good," I can feel Mollie nodding into my chest.

"And we all lived above a pub called The Dog in the Pond."

"That's a funny name," Mollie says in a giggle that only girls of that age can seem to manage.

"It's a very funny name," I agree with a smile. It's been so many years since thoughts of that pub had crossed my mind and thinking of it now is rather comforting in a way that memories of your youth can be when you get to my age.

"Did you have a best friend when you were a boy?"

Out of the mouths of babes. Mollie's question is so innocent and yet it makes me catch my breath as a pain, that never completely left me, stirs inside my chest.

"I had a very best friend," I reply quietly, "His name was John Paul."

"He had TWO names?" Mollie asks in amazement.

"He did… I guess his mummy realised he was a very special boy and decided one name wasn't enough."

"Was he a nice friend?"

I struggle to answer the simple question of my grandchild. How could I ever explain to this young girl the truth behind John Paul McQueen? How could I find the words to express what he meant to me now when I haven't been able to manage that in the last 50 years?

It shocks me when I realise that it's been 50 years since I last saw that beautiful young man. 50 years since I let him walk away from me and stood motionless as my heart broke. 50 years and yet even now, as I close my eyes, I can picture every inch of him with perfect clarity. I can see the brightness of his dazzling azure eyes looking at me with the love I never saw anywhere else in my life. I can still hear his laughter… and his tears… I can recall every stolen moment, every hope and dream, every second that I lay in his arms and every second that I missed him when he wasn't there.

How can I recall this man from my past with such precision when I have trouble picturing the face of my wife who died only a few years ago?

It doesn't mean that I didn't love Mollie's grandmother. The gentle girl that I met in my final year at Trinity and the woman I made my life with. It's not that the memory of her is gone from my mind, or my heart, I still see her every time I look at our daughter and even more so in the face of our gorgeous grandchild. But the memory of John Paul was always something special, something that I have cherished all my life and something that I have been grateful to have during some difficult times.

"Are you crying granddad?"

I didn't notice the tears on my face until Mollie's gentle hand was brushing them away and I force a smile as I noticed the concern in her soft blue eyes.

"Did I upset you granddad?"

"Of course you didn't darling," I tell her as I kiss her cheek softly, "I just got a bit sad remembering my friend."

"Why sad?" Mollie tilts her head to one side and looks at me with a breathtaking innocence.

"John Paul," I hesitate for a second, just saying his name again after all these years feels wonderful, "John Paul had an accident when he was 18 and he died."

Mollie looks at me with an expression that makes me wonder if she even understands what I said.

"Will he be in heaven then?"

"Yeah… I suppose he will be."

"Will you be going to heaven soon granddad?"

I stroke Mollie's soft hair and take in the wondrous miracle of this beautiful child who is a part of me. It's been a month since my diagnosis but the thought of dying no longer holds any fear for me. I've led a good life, a full and happy life. I saw my daughter grow into a strong woman who found love of her own and gave me a grandchild that I couldn't love more if I tried.

On the whole I have very few regrets in my life. If I'm honest probably only the one. Of all the choices and decisions that I've made over the years letting John Paul leave was the greatest mistake I made, and the one I will always lament, even with my dying breath.

"You remember how mummy said that granddad is poorly don't you?" I ask Mollie gently.

Mollie nods her head in understanding. "Maybe when you get to heaven you'll find John Paul there," she says with a smile that melts my heart.

"I hope so Mollie," I reply with a sigh, "I really hope so."

No I won't be afraid, no I won't be afraid  
Just as long as you stand, stand by me


End file.
